


Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 67 chevy impala, Human Impala, Human!Impala - Freeform, Impala Fic, M/M, The Impala - Freeform, human! impala
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:43:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds the Impala has transformed; his beloved car is human, and he isn't quite sure how to handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

Black rubber bit into the snow, wheels exposing the dark gravel beneath. The Impala hummed down the country road, evergreens on either side. Sam and Dean were headed back to the motel after a pretty useless round of interviewing the recently, violently, weirdly bereaved. The road opened up to a few shops as they drove into town. Dean took a right, pulling into the lot of a diner: Jane’s Kitchen. The car settled between a set of white lines in lot, and the driver pulled the silver key from the ignition.

  
“Come on man, the motel’s right down the road,” Sam groaned, looking up to the sign, reading the red, cursive writing: Burgers, Fries, & Pies.

  
“Ah, but pie,” Dean said, “is here.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly at his brother as he opened his door, climbing out of the Impala. Sam sighed, ducking his head as he awkwardly stepped out the Impala in his frequent struggle to get in and out of that car without banging his head on the ceiling, or falling out of the car entirely.

  
“Dude, get your stupid pie later," he said, grouchy.

  
“I’m livin’ in the now, Sammy!” Dean yelled as slammed the car door, and walked off to the restaurant’s entrance, boots leaving little pavement trails in the thin snow. Sam huffed, rolling his eyes, and begrudgingly followed his brother inside.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The boys left the diner, pushing open the dull silver handle of the glass door. Dean had only taken a few steps outside when he halted, dead still; he stopped breathing.

  
“Dude… Where’s my car?” he asked, turning to Sam incredulously. “DUDE. WHERE’S MY CAR?” he shouted, face darkening.

  
“I… don’t know…”

  
“I remember, I parked here, right here,” Dean said tersely, pointing to the empty parking space before him.

  
“No tire treads lead away from it, and it isn’t like it’s been snowing enough to cover that up in… what, fifteen minutes?” Sam added.

  
“I don’t like this, I don’t like it.” Dean practically shouted at the mostly empty lot. He grimaced, glancing around frantically, teeth bared. He could only see a light blue, rusting Toyota pickup, a hideous yellow Subaru, and a random guy sitting on the ground, poking at the snow. Wait, what the hell is he doing? Dean squinted at the man, pinching the snow in what appeared to be utter fascination. He was almost confused enough to stop being mad, until he remembered how pissed off he was. “Where the hell is Baby, dammit!”

  
“Dean? Dean!” shouted the man in the snow as he floundered to his feet, clumsily trotting over to where Dean stood. Dean skeptically looked at the man stumbling all over himself. “I’m here Dean!” he said.

  
“Sorry, what?!” Dean said, the edges of his voice biting with accusation.

  
“It’s me, Dean,” the man said, practically bouncing with what seemed to be… excitement?

  
“Uh, who is me, and why should I care?!” Dean said, staring at the tall, black haired man.

  
“It’s me, Baby. I guess I can’t be too surprised you didn’t recognize me, having lost the wheels and fenders and all,” he said, grinning wide as the broad side of a barn. Dean’s head tilted downward, eyebrows shooting up, eyes wide. He turned his head to look at Sam, mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to decide if he should say something or just gape dumbly. He turned back to the man claiming to be Baby. He circled around the guy to get a better look at him, to size him up: black jeans with silver cursive scrawling “Chevrolet” down the sides of his thighs, dark grey eyes, hair slicked back like a greaser or something (who did this douche think he was), and a black leather jacket with “T59 RGR” in white, raised letters printed on the back.

  
“Wait,” Dean said, pointing at the back of the coat. He looked back up to Sam. “That’s the number on our plates, Sam. Our current plates.”

  
“What?” Sam said, walking over to see what Dean meant. He saw the jacket, and asked, “How… did you… what the hell?”

  
“Here, I can prove to you that I am who I say I am,” the man said. He turned around to face the Winchesters, and pulled down the neck of his white shirt to show raised, pink scars; D.W. and S.W were scratchily carved into his chest. The boys stared, speechless. “Also, this,” the man said, and pushed up his left sleeve, revealing an army green, plastic toy soldier embedded in his forearm. “Told you,” said Baby, an absurdly pleased smile on his face as Sam and Dean silently gawked at the impossible man who stood before them.


	2. Chapter 2

“Woah woah woah, you’re not baby… Baby’s a… a beautiful…” Dean shook his head in disbelief as he motioned an hourglass figure with his hands and stammered, “woman!”

“Well… I don’t think I’m a woman,” he said, rolling his eyes, the corners or his mouth still pulling themselves upward as he continued bouncing on the balls of his feet, clad in black leather boots.

  
“Yes, yes you are. If you’re Baby, you’re a woman!”

  
“I mean, I could prove it to you if you want,” Baby said, smirking, wiggling his eyebrows at Dean.

  
“NO. GOD NO,” Dean said, palms over his eyes. “This isn’t happening… this isn’t happening,” he said as he started pacing.

  
“Oh relax, I was just harassing you,” Baby said, still smirking. Sam chuckled in the background, enjoyment of Dean’s distress overriding his confusion.

  
“Shut up, you!” Dean shook his head, and looked back up at Baby. “So… you’re really… my car?”

  
“Yeah… I am. It’s so amazing to finally see you like this, and to… just… you know,” he said, his voice rumbling low like the Impala’s engine. The enthusiasm he’d kept cage finally seemed to explode as he leapt at Dean, throwing his arms around his middle, squeezing him tight, lifting him off the sidewalk.

  
“Whoa!” Dean cried as he was abruptly hoisted off his feet. “Hey, uh… dude, you can put me down now,” panic creeping into Dean’s voice.

  
“Oh. Sorry… But I’ve never been able to touch anything before, not like this. It’s so beautiful,” he said as he set Dean down, but not quite willing to relinquish his hold on him just yet. He gave Dean one last squeeze before letting go. He stared into Dean’s face for a moment before saying, “Hey Sammy!” as he walked over to give a moose a bear-hug.

  
“Uh… hi,” Sam said, rather uncomfortably, teeth clenched. “Um, uh… so… I guess we were going back to the motel, right?”

  
“Yeah, how about we leave, and just... get away from this really… really… damnit, I don’t even have an adjective for this situation,” Dean said, striding into the parking lot, only to stop in the space where his car was parked. “DAMNIT.”

  
“Sorry…” Baby said.

  
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean mumbled, walking off to the road, following the asphalt in the direction of their motel, Sam and Baby trailing behind.


	3. Chapter 3

                After a trying journey back to the motel, Dean fell into the chair and buried his face in his arms, crossed on the table before him. 

                “You know you didn’t have to peel the bark off of _every tree_ and chase _every damn animal_ you saw on the side of the road,” Dean mumbled into his arms.

                “But… I just wanted to touch one.  I’ve never done that,” Baby said.

                “Squirrels are impossible to catch.  And you don’t pet squirrels.  Who pets _squirrels_?  Seriously man?” called Dean’s muffled voice, looking up and squinting incredulously.

                “Oh, well sorry for just being curious, I guess that’s a sin now,” he said, crossing his arms and looking away from Dean.  His face twitched, haughty expression giving way to a smile again.  “It’s just so amazing… All of this.  For example, I never thought it would look like this.”

                “What would look like what?” Sam asked.

                “Inside the motel.  It had always been a mystery to me,” he said, looking around.  “Just try to imagine having been a car since 1967, and just suddenly… being able to do things on your own, getting to see inside buildings, to just… you know… be sentient.”

                “Well, yeah.  Pretty big leap, I guess,” Sam said, looking over at Dean.

                “Yeah, whatever.  Still trying to wrap my head around the whole…” he peeked an eye over at Baby. “that.  Hey, maybe we should call Bobby, see if he’s got anything.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________

                “Your car did _what?!_ ” Bobby asked.

                “Ah… Well… it’s kind of… _he’s_ kind of… human, now,” Sam replied.

                “He?  Kind of ruins Dean’s fantasies,” Bobby said, eliciting a snort from Sam.

                "I heard that, you know," Dean barked from across the room.

                “Yeah," Sam chuckled.  "So… any idea of what might have the mojo to swing something like this?”

                “Well jeez, Sam.   Not yet… I mean, your car turned human, right?”

                “Right.”

                “Personality, and all that?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Damn… That's some serious shit you boys stepped.  I’ll have to get back to you later on this one,” Bobby said.

                “Alright, thanks,” replied Sam, hanging up and re-pocketing his cell phone.

                “And?” Dean asked.

                “Bobby has no idea.  But I mean, what did we actually expect?  Where do you even start looking for something like this?” Sam asked.  Dean huffed,

                “Beats me.”  Dean looked back at his human car.  “Wait, what are you doing?”

                “I’m writing!” Baby said.

                “What?  What’re you writing?” Dean asked.

                “I’ve always wanted to try it,” Baby replied, ignoring the question at hand.

                “Why am I stuck with a child and no car?” Dean muttered.

                “I am not a child,” Baby said, staring Dean straight in the face, motionless, a dead stare.

                “Uh… wow, okay then,” Dean replied, a small chuckle escaping his chest, his eyes wide, trying to look away from his man-car.

                “What did you think I did for all those years?” Baby’s questing eyes burrowed into Dean, forcing the man who had tried to wave him off to look at him.  “Let me tell you that I didn’t spend all my time contemplating the feeling of a pencil in my hands, or trees, or squirrel fur,” the Impala said, voice having lost its enthusiasm, a dead voice.  “I was always there.  I know everything, _everything_ that happened to the both of you.  I had to watch as the people I cared about, the only people I knew went out every night, got ripped to bits, and fell back into my chassis and had a little less life in them.  Every new day was another chink in the armor, and I saw it.  I could only sit back and watch when I just wanted to hold you and make it okay, when you people wouldn’t even do _that_ much for each other!” He stared unblinkingly into Dean’s eyes; the hunter felt queasy.  He didn’t like it when people knew about his problems; if they were his and his alone, he could send them away for awhile, and they'd blink out for as long as the whiskey could hold them back.  But now something with a mind to think, a mouth to repeat knew  just about every problem he’d ever had since he could remember.  His car knew it all; hell, he’d even told Baby about his problems when he really needed someone to talk to, some way to take away some of the unbearable load he piled precariously onto his unstable, self-medicated mental foundations.

                “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Dean said, looking back down at the table, desperately trying to keep himself from thinking.

                “You did,” Baby said, glancing forlornly back at the miserable scribbles he’d left on the sheet of notebook paper, torn from one of Sam’s notebooks.  “You just saw me as something new, someone you didn’t know.”  Baby shut his eyes tight for a moment, a face of pain that smoothed itself back over. Dean looked up and opened his mouth to respond; he watched the Impala’s stare, tracing the lines he’d made on the paper.  There was a kind of weight in his eyes, a weight of sorrow that was enough to take the wind out of you if you weren’t expecting it.  Dean looked back down, and decided that he didn’t have a good enough apology to give.


End file.
